Fix me
by writinglilacs
Summary: After the war, Hermione struggles to cope with the tragic events of the last few years, but it turns out that healing yourself isn't that easy after all.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Dear reader, welcome to my very first fanfiction story, I hope you will enjoy it. As this is my first time uploading anything, please be kind and feel free to review and critique to help me get better. All the characters and places you recognize are property of JK Rowling, I'm just borrowing them. Have fun!**

Saturday evening had seen a tall, grey-haired woman resolutely stalking up a hill to a robust looking stone cottage in the North of England. Drawing closer to the cliffs, she had almost reached the gate of a fence made from dark grey stone, when she stopped abruptly as if she had been hit by an electric shock. A fierce look of disdain on her face, she took out a wooden stick and began whispering under her breath while flicking the stick form time to time. Had someone passed by, they would have certainly been alarmed by her strange behaviour; after all you usually don't see people waving a piece of wood through the air while muttering to themselves. It was a lucky thing, then, that the hill seemed completely deserted apart from the little cottage. The pathway crossing it looked barely trodden, leaving the overall impression of isolation and tranquillity behind. After a few minutes, the woman's face showed a quick flash of victory crossing her features as she took the last steps to open the gate and walk across the front yard just to come to a screeching halt in front of the door again. Now looking thoroughly pissed off, she repeated the process until she finally began beating down onto the dark door.

"Severus Snape, I swear that I will _bombarda_ the façade of your blasted cottage if you will not let me in immediately!" she screamed. A few moments later the door swung open to reveal a smirking, dark-haired man standing in the doorway.

"So...what brings you here on this perfectly enjoyable evening, Minerva?" he drawled after they had settled in the small sitting room. _As if I didn't know why you dragged yourself all the way up here._ He wouldn't make this easy on her if his suspicions proved to be correct.

After taking in the small space crammed with dark, wooden bookshelves, the fireplace with the dusty looking mantelpiece and the unsettling portrait depicting the night sky shortly before a thunderstorm hung above it, her gaze finally focused on his unshaven face looking gaunt in the flickering candlelight.

"As you well know, Severus, I have been trying to contact you for a matter of weeks now. You ignoring my owls and floo-calls has left me no choice but to inconvenience you in person," she answered in a clipped tone, fixing him with a piercing stare.

 _Damn him and his premature belief that this woman would just leave him alone if he ignored her advances long enough._

"It has certainly come to your notice that Hogwarts will soon open again for the new term", she continued.

"Indeed", he replied. It had been all over the _Daily Prophet_ , and while he normally would not take a single thing that train-wreck of a magazine published at face value, he had been reasonably sure that at least this basic information was to be taken seriously. Not inclined to indulge in a longer answer, he waited for her to resume the conversation.

"While I have been able to secure Bill Weasley as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I wasn't successful in convincing Horace to stay on for another term…", she paused, a look of determination forming on her face. _Bloody Gryffindors!_ , he thought to himself.

"So you wish for me to recommend an acceptable replacement, then. Well, this could prove to be a difficult task, though I am sure I would be able come up with a suitable name before term starts", he said in a serious tone. Oh, he knew full well this was not the reason she had taken it upon herself to disturb him personally, but he would be damned if he did not enjoy himself a little before it came to the inevitable.

"Stop winding me up, Severus! I have known you for over twenty years; I recognize your sarcasm when I hear it", she snapped at him. "As you can imagine, I have exhausted every possible option to fill that position during the past months; all candidates either declined the offer or proved to be incapable in all aspects this job requires. Given that term starts in two weeks' time, I am depleted of any choice."

 _How he loved being someone's last resort._ Throwing her a piercing look, he decided to stretch the silence between them, a technique that he had found to be most effective and amusing when wanting to make someone uncomfortable.

Not that he particularly disliked Minerva McGonagall; they had been allies of some kind with a genuine dose of house rivalry thrown in, at least until this last disastrous year of him being Headmaster. After his name had been cleared by the Boy-who-lived-to-embarrass-him, he had miraculously woken up in St. Mungos, where they restored him to something approaching health. He had received her letter shortly afterwards: her apologizing for her efforts to undermine him leading the school (which he could not blame her for; it had been an absolute mess by any stretch of the imagination), misjudging him for his motives and so on. The content of these letters seemed fairly similar and to his surprise, he had received several of them, specifically from members of the Order of the Phoenix. For good measure, however, he had also been on the receiving end of some disturbing letters from the general public, calling him a traitor, a coward and whatever came to mind when writing an ill-informed letter of hate. Finding their objections to his person justified to some degree, it had bothered him little to read their attempts at insulting him. Where his association with Minerva was concerned, though, he was inclined to continue their somewhat strange acquaintance, although he would see to having her squirm before giving her what she wanted.

The look of determination appearing back on her face when she realized he would not respond, she continued, "Thus, Severus, I know this is a lot to ask of you but I am desperate to have you reinstalled as Hogwarts' Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House." _As if he had not done enough for all of them already. As if he had not been asked – or rather ordered – to do countless deeds by two masters for the better part of his miserable life._

"No," he replied simply.

"This is all I get then? A simple 'no'; no explanation, no conditions, no bargaining," she snapped again.

"My, Minerva, you know full well the reasons strongly speaking against my returning to Hogwarts. Otherwise you would have been knocking on my door months ago, determined to have me resume a career I have neither enjoyed nor been particularly suited to. Not even taking into consideration the disastrous year of my acting as Headmaster, adding to all the stress and trauma of two consecutive wars. I do not think it particularly reasonable to mend my psyche among a castle full of dunderheads," he retorted.

"Your deeds as Headmaster have been exonerated, Severus, you did what you had to at the time, as all of us did."

"You cannot exonerate watching students being tortured by their teachers, Minerva," he spat. _This is on my conscience, not yours._

"This was beyond your control, and you know it. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this; _he_ would have replaced you with someone doing more damage than we would have been able to mend, Severus. The students know of this now. As far as I have been able to recover from the ones aiding in restoring the castle, they have come to terms with what happened to them during that year. They have not forgotten, but forgiven, Severus. You are free to teach them again, free to replace their memories with you educating them as you have done before." _But who will replace mine, Minerva?_ He hardly believed the children would be willing to forgive his role in their torment this readily; he was not going to forgive himself.

They fell silent again, the candlelight flickering around them, both seeming lost in their own thoughts for a while. At last, her features took on a stern look once more, her lips tightening before McGonagall continued.

"I am most ardently concerned with Slytherin House, though. Many children have lost any sense of direction, with their friends and families largely imprisoned or dead, they have no one to turn to. Even Horace would not have been able to care for them now, I am sure of it."

"Where, I ask you, was that concern for the 'grand' House of Slytherin all those years, Minerva? Decades of suspiciously eyeing the students, guilty by being sorted into the wrong house, disregarding their needs and feelings by shamelessly favouring your precious Gryffindors and truthfully the other houses as well. Dumbledore had seen to this order when I was a student all these years ago, and you supported him keeping it that way," he hissed, his temper rising though he had not intended it to.

The neglect of Slytherin House had long infuriated him; even during his time as a student, Dumbledore had made it crystal clear where Slytherins' place was, brazenly excusing everything the Marauders had done, while he had to pay for his actions at any given opportunity. He had not been the first student suffering from this injustice and certainly not the last and he wondered how many students had been persuaded to join the dark side because they felt it was the only side wanting them. Though his reasoning for joining the wrong cause had been far more complex than that, it had certainly affected his final choice.

"I know, Severus, we have done too little, too late. I am afraid we failed many of them," she remarked guiltily, holding his dark gaze with a stern brow.

"Indeed," he replied steadily after another pause. This was somewhat of a surprise; he had half expected her to argue his position, as they had done many times before.

"The students need you now. You are the only constant they have known these past years, the only person that truly cared for them. You know their situation, what they have been through, the struggle they are facing right now. There is no one else, Severus. You must return."

 **Let me know, if you liked it :)**


	2. Chapter 2

After the door had closed behind her, Severus sank down on the worn leather couch in front of the fireplace, burying his face in his hands. Listening to the cracking firewood in the hearth, he let the impact of their conversation sink in. In just a few weeks' time, he would wander the halls of Hogwarts again. What on earth had he just agreed to? Of course, he had made sure to at least get a generous raise and extended privileges out of their deal, but this gut-wrenching feeling that he had just done something incredibly senseless had settled forcefully in the pit of his stomach. Lazily reaching for his wand, he accioed a bottle of fire-whiskey from the nearest cupboard and took a large drink. Feeling the familiar golden liquid burn along his throat, he settled for staring back into the fire illuminating the dark circles underneath his eyes.

It still seemed unreal that he was sitting here in the first place. He had never intended to survive the war; he had strongly expected to lay down his life before one of the sides would claim their victory and at least hoped his death would further the course of the Order. Countless times had found him lying at the feet of the Dark Lord, wondering if the monster his former master had become would be the last thing he saw in this life. Towards the end of the war, he had hoped his life would end sooner rather than later. For years he had been walking a tightrope between two masters collectively demanding every last piece of him. Believing that if he would not find an unnatural end as many double-agents did, he would die of pure exhaustion before the war was over; he rather existed than lived during the past two or three years. Killing Albus Dumbledore had finally rid him of the last string of hope his sanity had desperately clung to and his life had spiralled into endless terrors he had barely been able to endure.

When Nagini had buried her teeth in his skin at last, the venom spreading through his veins had felt like a welcome fire, burning him up and freeing his soul from the dreadful existence his life had become. He had been ready to die after giving Potter those memories, his secret out in the open at last and _her_ eyes being the last ones he'd seen before closing his. Although his love for her had faded over the years with the realization that he had the tendency to glorify even her worst actions toward him, it had been comforting to see the symbol for what he had fought for so many years during his final moments.

And then he had woken up to a garish white light shining directly in his face. At first the horrid thought crossed his mind that he had come back as a ghost. Though he had not intentionally left an anchor to the real world by means of a spell or potion, these things were sometimes caused by unfinished business with the living or an unexpected, tragically violent death. Mentally going over the last two criteria, he concluded that his business was mostly finished as far as he was concerned and, though his death had been violent, it had not been unexpected. His second thought was that he had gone straight to hell, which did not surprise him in the least considering the horrifying things he had done as a Death Eater. Though he expected to pay for his deeds, he would not have imagined hell to be only slightly displeasing and uncomfortable. While he normally prided himself on his intellect - one of the few things he actually enjoyed about himself - these first thoughts racing through his mind had not been part of his brightest moments.

When he had finally opened his eyes, he found himself staring into the harsh faces of multiple medi-wizards and –witches, eyeing him with varying looks ranging from mild concern to open curiosity. As it turned out, he had been found outside the entrance to St. Mungo's hospital shortly before dawn of the final battle with a note pinned to his chest spelling 'Snake Bite – Nagini' in barely readable handwriting. The healers had managed to revive him before injecting the suitable antivenin, which had been left over – and the irony was not lost on him – from their treating Arthur Weasley's snakebite that Severus had majorly contributed to healing by providing said antivenin.

His treatment at St. Mungo's had cost him the better part of a month and while he was accustomed to endure physical pain, he was unprepared for the psychological pain hitting him full force as the realization of the aftermath of two wars had finally sunken in. As a result of being confined to his sick-bed, which left him with barely any means to vent his agitation and hurting, he had spent his time occluding heavily, trying to shut out the pain threatening to overwhelm him. Though it had lessened the blow initially, he knew from experience that using Occlumency to this degree was highly unhealthy and would probably harm his fractured psyche even further. His defences were bound to crack at some point and even his being a natural Occlumens could not be enough to prevent his mind from shattering entirely, earning him a lifelong place at the St. Mungo's spell-ward.

The only upside to his time at the hospital had been him missing his own trial he faced for being a proven Death Eater in general and killing Albus Dumbledore specifically. Apparently, Potter had made quite a show of his turn in the witness stand, revealing some of the memories he had given him to the Wizengamot (only few of his private memories in Potter's possession had become public knowledge and - thank God for small mercies - neither had involved his infatuation with Lilly Evans) and throwing a dramatic speech praising his bravery and loyalty to their cause. Combined with the testimony of further Order witnesses, he had finally been cleared of all charges.

A few weeks after the verdict, the healers released him from the hospital at last, but he was technically required to attend future check-ups once a month. They had healed him to the best of their abilities (which were certainly more limited than they should be), though many of his injuries were part of what he liked to call collateral damage accumulated over many years of deliberate torture and fights among the ranks of the Death Eaters. Quite a few injuries had either not been healed at all or healed insufficiently in the past, making their treatment almost impossible at this point, and some curses just leave behind nasty after-effects for which treatment has yet to be invented. As he was accustomed to living with several degrees of constant pain for the past decades, he was not concerned to endure the mere aftermath of the worst pains he had experienced already.

He had found his refuge in this small cottage up in the North, which he had furnished sparingly and fleetingly to settle into his new home in a short amount of time. His days were spent in solitude with him refusing to answer the occasional owl passing by his window and blocking the floo-connection that had been installed before he'd moved in. Isolating himself was probably not the best idea, but he could barely stand his own company at this time and did not think he could tolerate the presence of another human being. Aside from that, they would most likely not be able to tolerate his presence either. Half the time he drank too much to drown his memory and numb the pain bearing down on him; the other half he used Occlumency to tune out his surroundings almost entirely. Sleep was hard to come by with night terrors haunting his dreams and memories flashing through his mind preventing his rest. He used the few time spans he was consciously making an effort to be aware to either read his mail, the _Daily Prophet_ or the occasional chapter in a book from his library, shuffle to the local supermarket or, if he was having an especially good day, to start dealing with one painful subject at a time before he decided to drink or occlude again.

To his irritation, he had not yet been able to find out who had saved his life that night in the Shrieking Shack, and he wasn't sure whether he would thank or curse them when he did. Overall, his life had digressed to the state of existing rather than living again and it was a painful existence at that. In his conscious moments, he contemplated whether dying during that battle would have been more merciful than facing the aftermath and mostly he came to the conclusion that dying would at least have been easier. He felt like he was yet again treading another tight rope, only this time he was faced with handling his own mind and memories or inevitably succumb to madness. But despite his struggle, he could still not rid himself of the thought that there was some kind of reason his life had not ended that night, a reason for him still being alive.

Now that he had agreed to join the Hogwarts staff once more though, he found himself faced with even more challenges. The fragile schedule he had established at his cottage would not be adaptable to days filled with Potions lessons, meals at the Great Hall and patrol nights. Contrary to what many said about him, he was not a bad teacher after all; his student's knowledge was far more advanced than their year mates' in other magical schools, which was reflected in their higher than average OWL and NEWTS scores. And in order to teach these dunderheads even the most basic techniques and material without them blowing up his classroom, he had to be mentally aware of what he was doing. Thus, he somehow had to find a way to get through his days without shutting out his surroundings completely by means of Occlumency or alcohol, at least until he had finished his teaching duties for the day. What fun!

And all of this not even considering how his mind would cope with memories triggered by the Hogwarts environment. He honestly had no idea how he would react to setting foot in the place again where he had bled many nights from the Dark Lords torture, endured the feud with the Marauders, stood by while his students were tormented by the Carrows or saw Dumbledore falling down the Astronomy tower illuminated by a sickly green light.

He pushed these thoughts aside and took a deep drink from the now almost empty bottle of fire-whiskey. Why had he done it though? Why had he agreed to shackle himself anew when he knew it would ask things of him he was not sure he would be able to give? As soon as he had recognized Minerva tampering with his wards on the cottage, he knew why she had come. Her letters had held enough information for him to guess that she was struggling to fill the position, though he had not exactly expected her to show up at his door to recruit him. But once he had seen the fierce look of determination on her face, he suspected he would be struggling to no avail; Minerva McGonagall was a force to be reckoned with, especially when she ran out of options. And she had hit one of his weak spots when she mentioned the Slytherins _; damn his stupid sense of duty_.

Admittedly, he had not had the time to care for the students of his house the way they needed him to during these last years and he had felt them slipping from his grasp as soon as Potter snatched the House Cup away from them in his first year. Even though he still had been the confidant to have their backs at any given opportunity (what had seemed to some as favouring the students of his own house), he could not afford to make them a priority during the times of war, not with his duties demanding every waking minute of his time. And they needed to be made a priority for once; at least one person had to put them first. He wasn't sure that he was the right person for this task at the moment, yet he could not think of someone else caring for the young snakes to the degree necessary in a time where they had lost all sense of direction, bereft of a path many felt they would have needed to follow, with few people to trust and even fewer who trusted them. This could be an opportunity to do right by them.

Close to emptying the bottle, he spread out on the couch and stared at the greyish ceiling, feeling the alcohol sink in slowly and numbing his senses. Bringing the flask to his lips once more, he drained its contents in a single gulp, the burning sensation running down his throat for the last time this night. His thoughts grew hazier, still he couldn't help but contemplate whether caring for the Slytherins had not been his only motif for returning to Hogwarts. _Never lie to yourself_ ; he had done it enough in the past. As soon as he had seen Minerva approach his door, his subconscious had made the decision to accept the position, for reasons he had yet to unravel himself. _Not tonight though_ , he thought before the bottle fell from his fingers, landing on the rug beneath them with a muffled sound and he finally yielded to the darkness overwhelming his conscience.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a long summer for Hermione.

During most weeks she'd kept herself occupied with finishing the last repairs of Hogwarts that had been severely damaged in the final battle. It had taken months to restore the historic building to at least some of its former glory, but it was still overshadowed by the losses they had suffered that day back in May. Putting the war-torn pieces of Hogwarts back together had been almost therapeutic for Hermione, not just for the intellectual challenges it sometimes provided that kept her mind busy, for example when there had been particularly difficult spell damage to be reversed, but also for seeing the place she loved so much being stripped of the remains of the war and put back together. Of course she did not have the same bond to the castle as Harry did, but for her, too, it had been the most magical place full of knowledge and friendship, representing her entrance and belonging to the wizarding world. Seeing it torn apart had been heart-breaking, and fixing it had almost left her believing she could just put herself back together with the same determination she bestowed on the magical building. She had come to realise, tough, that it was way harder to try and return to her old self than she had hoped for.

The nightmares kept the events of the war fresh in her memory and there was barely a night she didn't spend restlessly walking around her room after waking up screaming and crying. Madam Pomfrey had sometimes offered her Dreamless Sleep, but she knew it was highly addictive when taken too often and she did not want to risk it.

Hermione had also found that it had become difficult to concentrate for as long as she used to, her thoughts eventually drifting off and it bothered her enormously. Her intelligence had always been one of the only qualities she liked about herself and though she still enjoyed a nice mental challenge, she was not up to her old capacities yet and was anxious that the people around her would notice. It was the one quality that other people as well had always valued her for, especially Harry and Ron or the teachers at school, and she was afraid it would affect her relationships if they found out.

During the summer at Hogwarts she had been able to hide it pretty well by seldom entering into group projects and working on her own so nobody would notice her taking breaks to blankly stare into nothingness or silently cry after a memory had flashed through her mind. And even during her stay at Grimmauld Place, she had holed herself up in the library half reading, half pretend-reading the numerous books, hiding her unstable emotions behind the old volumes.

But at the same time, it felt like doing research was one of the only things that kept her sane right now. At least for the time she could concentrate, she liked keeping her mind busy, as it prevented her from dwelling on the past all day and probably getting an emotional breakdown fuelled by boredom.

Talking to Harry and Ron had helped a bit, too, though each of them tried to deal with their grief and trauma differently. While Harry was spending almost every free minute with Ginny, talking things through with her, Ron had started to fiercely train Quidditch in the backyard of Grimmauld Place and going out with Dean and Seamus at any possible opportunity. She could not blame him for that; their romantic relationship had found its inevitable ending pretty soon after the battle. Both of them had realised that their emotions had been very much fuelled by the circumstances of the war and they just did not have enough in common beyond that. Still, they had somehow managed to keep their friendship intact, except for one or the other awkward moment and luckily no one's feelings had been hurt in the process. Yet, she felt a sort of loneliness had taken the space in her heart that had so long been filled with her crush on Ron and her isolating herself more than she probably should did not help that feeling in any way.

She was sure she would miss them dearly though, since both of them would not be returning to Hogwarts to finish their seventh year with her. In fact, there were very few people from their year that would come back, as now Minister Kingsley had enforced a special exception for them that allowed a direct entrance into their magical careers or apprenticeships even without their NEWTS. Harry and Ron would both be starting their auror training next week, while she would leave for Hogwarts tomorrow. As head girl, she was allowed to return one day early to go over a few changes with the headmistress and settle into her new quarters properly before the other students arrived.

For now she had apparated to her childhood home to pick up the last few things for the term. During the summer she had only come by once; the house brought back too many memories of her parents and the almost overwhelming feeling of guilt she still carried around with her for wiping their memory of any traces of her and sending them to live in Australia. They were still living there now, unaware of ever having had a daughter, since Hermione had not been able to bring herself to reverse the spell, yet. Mostly she was afraid that it would simply not work, that her charm had been too strong or radical and she would have to except to have lost her parents forever. But she also did not want to risk messing up her reversal due to her faltering concentration and she was not even sure what the safest way to bring back their memories was. She would do more research at Hogwarts and also come to terms with the possibility of being rejected by her parents. They would probably be infuriated at her interference in their lives in such a major way and she wouldn't blame them for turning away from her, even if she had done everything to keep them safe. Still, she could not deny the small spark of hope that her parents would eventually forgive her, if she explained her motives to them.

She cast a quick "Homenum Revelio"-spell in the doorway, better safe than sorry. Although she highly doubted someone would have found their way into her old home, there were still a few former Death Eaters on the run that required a certain amount of precaution still. When nothing happened, she hurried into the living room and up the stairs to find her room just the way she had left it last time, except for a thick layer of dust that had settled on her belongings. She grabbed a few pieces of clothing from her closet and put them into her bag after shrinking them. A few pieces of jewellery that had been given to her by her mom followed shortly. A few bits and bops later, she was already on her way out again, closing the door behind her and apparating back to Grimmauld Place.

When she finally finished packing her trunk, it was past eleven at night and after getting ready for bed, she snuggled comfortably into the covers. Though it had been out of the question that she would finish her NEWTS as soon as she could, the thought of being at Hogwarts without her friends and dealing with healing herself along the way made her anxious at the same time. Still worrying, she fell asleep at last only to wake up a few hours later screaming from another nightmare. Thank God for silencing spells and her own private quarters at Hogwarts.

 **In the next chapter we'll return to Hogwarts :)**

 **PS: I had originally uploaded this story starting with the chapter you've been reading now, but while I tried to continue the story, the first two chapters crept in somehow, so I decided to add them here as well.**


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning found Hermione tiptoeing into the kitchen at the break of dawn to fix herself some much needed tea and a quick breakfast. Sleep had been hard to come by again, especially with the jumble of thoughts and feelings occupying her mind at the moment, so she might as well start the day early. Harry and Ron would not be up for hours yet, which left Grimmauld Place feeling eerily solemn except for the occasional creaking noise piercing the silence of the old house. It was nothing compared to the bustling she experienced during the summer of her fifth year when order members had swarmed the former Head Quarters of the Order; people constantly arriving and departing had filled the house with life it so desperately needed. Now it felt empty, as it had during the time the three of them had occupied the place by themselves to plan their search of the remaining Horcruxes.

This atmosphere reminded her too much of that uncertain time, from their mission at the Ministry and their hasty escape to the rest of the hunt and the final battle ensuing after that. She had not wanted to return here; after leaving St. Mungo's, where they had repaired the worst of the damage she and the boys had suffered over the course of the last year - cumulating in the wounds the fight at Hogwarts had left them with – they had gone back to the Burrow. The agonising grief that had taken hold of the place had just been too much in the end. Molly had tried to hold it together for all of them but, admittedly, no one had been in their right state of mind at that point and combined with the fact that there were way too many people trying to stay there anyway, all of it had taken even more of a toll on Hermione. When Harry had finally suggested to take up residence at Grimmauld Place once more, she had needed little convincing to join him. After all, where was she supposed to go without them? The two of them were the people she trusted the most and she didn't believe she would manage on her own, not just because she didn't have a lot of money to go out and rent a flat by herself and returning to her childhood home was out of the question with all the memories of her parents attached to it; she needed them to keep her sane, to give her the opportunity to talk to someone, at least on the occasions she felt like it.

They had tried to make Grimmauld Place more comfortable; the first thing they had finally managed to get rid of was the nasty image of a dusty Dumbledore haunting them through the hallway, a bit of complicated spell work she had accomplished after getting limited access to the Hogwarts library again. But even after cleaning most of the rooms – especially the nasty nest of Doxies that had somehow managed to return to some old curtains on the second floor – the place barely felt more tolerable than it had after their big cleaning mission during fifth year. Whenever she had the chance, she would linger at Hogwarts to repair one issue or another, avoiding going home to the damp old house with the nasty portrait screaming obscenities at her as soon she walked past.

But here she was, stuck in Central London for the past few weeks after they had finished the restoration of Hogwarts with rarely more to do than sitting around, lost in thoughts of a war they had barely survived. So all things considered, she was rather looking forward to exchanging the damp, creaking single-bed for a comfortable four-pollster in Gryffindor tower and in the Head Girl quarters at that. If Harry and Ron were coming as well, it would have been almost perfect, really.

After quickly downing her food and tea that left her a little more awake, she quietly sneaked up to her room again to pack the few remaining bits and bops into her already full trunk before flicking her wand to send it floating down the stairs and into the kitchen's fireplace. Following her belongings, she took a handful of floo-powder from a jar on the mantelpiece and threw it into the fireplace, announcing "Hogwarts, Head Girl quarters" in a clear voice. Headmistress McGonagall had made an exception and opened the Floo-connection between Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts for this day so Hermione didn't have to go through the hustle of apparating with all her baggage. Sending off her trunk first meant she had at least one thing she did not have to worry about until later, while she herself would be flooing into the Headmistress' office in a few hours.

She contemplated leaving early as well to avoid saying goodbye to Harry and Ron in person (she would write them a letter of course, which would probably be a lot easier on all of them), but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. So she sat on the wooden bench of the kitchen reading one of the few books she had allowed herself to buy in Flourish and Blotts the last time she'd visited Diagon Alley, waiting until she heard the plumbing creak upstairs to put on the tea. When the boys finally slouched into the kitchen, Ron following a fairly disgruntled looking Harry with hair that rivalled Hermione's uncontrollable strands, they murmured their greetings and sat across from her grabbing the cups of tea she had set out for them.

"I can't believe you're leaving already, Mione, it just feels strange to imagine not having you here every morning", Harry said looking up from his steaming cup.

"I know what you mean; I can't even remember the last breakfast I had without Ron chewing in my ear", she joined in, trying to lighten the mood. That earned her a fake pout from Ron, who countered:

"Well, at least we can throw out the pumpkin juice now", making both of them chuckle. "For real though, Mione, how are we going to survive without you pestering us to do our work?"

"You'll live", she smirked at him. "Your trainers will pester you enough, believe me. I could, however, arrange to send you some colour-coded planners scheduling in some after hour study sessions if that is what you'd like", she joked, pleased to see the boys exchange an alarmed look.

"No thanks, I think we'll be fine", Harry laughed nervously. A few half-hearted jokes about revision tables and auror parcours later it was time for her to leave. Standing shakily she hugged both of them tightly, a few tears escaping as she tried to keep her composure.

"You'll write to me, won't you? Both of you", she demanded, throwing Ron a pointed look as she released them.

" 'Course, Mione", he replied with a sheepish smile. Harry just nodded at her sincerely, trying to hide his suspiciously glittering eyes.

"Alright. Try to avoid doing anything stupid, you two. And stay safe, ok? I'll miss you", was all she brought out before she hugged them for the last time.

"We'll try, at least", Ron reassured her. "We'll miss you, too, Mione. Maybe you'll even manage to stay out of trouble this year without us dragging you into it all the time", Harry laughed, drawing a smile from her.

"I wouldn't count on it", she joked in turn, turning towards the fireplace and stepping into it with a load of floo-powder in her hand.

"Be careful, Mione. If you need anything, you know where to find us", Harry said with a sincere look on his face. "Thank you", she nodded and gave the two of them a sad smile. She wanted to say much more, wanted to tell them how much their friendship meant to her and how much she would truly miss their company, but she couldn't, at least not without completely losing her composure and arriving a crying mess in McGonagall's office. So instead she just gave them a meaning-laden look and announced "Hogwarts, Headmistress' office", watching as the two of them spun out of her view.

 **I'm finally back to writing after finishing my exams and termpapers, yay :) Now that I have a bit more time, I will try my hardest to upload at least one chapter per week, maybe two if I can manage it. Also, please ignore any mistakes in my writing so far, I don't have a beta as of now so we'll just have to roll with it. Let me know if you liked it and leave a review :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, I just borrow them for fun. Enjoy!**

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A few moments later, she stumbled out of the grand fireplace at Hogwarts, not quite managing the graceful entrance she had envisioned. After her vision had stopped spinning, she registered the familiar large desk and the witch sitting behind it, as well as the countless portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses in the background, most of them now eyeing her curiously.

With a pang of sadness and confusion in the pit of her stomach, she recognized Dumbledore's portrait twinkling down at her and gave him a tight smile before she slowly approached the desk. She still had some conflicting thoughts concerning her former Headmaster and, to be quite honest with herself, she had not yet managed to think rationally on his involvement in the war and the roles he had made them play. So for now, she decided to avoid him.

Looking up from the stack of papers she seemed to sign, McGonagall's gaze fixed on Hermione and softened as she stood to greet her.

"Hermione, nice to see you again, dear. I'm glad you managed to arrive early. Would you care for some tea?"

"Thank you, Professor. I would care for a cup, if you don't mind", Hermione replied. The Headmistress nodded and called for a house elf, who brought them a steaming pot of tea as well as various tea supplies mere seconds later. Her professor gestured for her to sit as she fixed their tea and placed a delicate looking cup in front of Hermione. Thanking her again, she took a careful sip and tried to let the hot liquid calm her nerves.

"I reckon the last few weeks of your summer were enjoyable?" the Headmistress inquired.

"Yes, Professor, they were quite calm or at least as calm as you imagine sharing a house with Harry and Ron would be", she answered with a small smile.

"Do call me Minerva when we speak in private, Hermione. You have more than earned that privilege over the last years, though I won't have to remind you to address me properly in the presence of your classmates."

"Thank you, _Minerva_ ", she tried out carefully, not used to addressing her Professor by her first name. "Of course I will be sure to do so only in private."

"Well, then. Let us turn to the more pressing issue of the responsibilities you will need to tend to this year", Minerva continued in her usual business-like manner. "Unlike with former Head Girls and Head Boys, I have decided to entrust the two of you with more tasks but also more freedom to execute them based on your own judgement. However, your decisions should obviously pertain to the school's rules and significant events or circumstances are to be discussed with at least one staff member."

"The first, quite obvious task, involves the extension of your rounds-schedule you will need to work out with the Head Boy as well as the prefects of all Houses. You may continue your rounds until midnight; however I find it necessary to emphasize that your rounds do not excuse you from curfew on your off-days nor do they include a long visit to the library", she said, giving the young witch a knowing look; the late night study sessions of a bushy-haired Gryffindor were the stuff of Hogwarts legends by now.

Hermione promptly flushed slightly red at the Headmistress' comment and opted for a sincere looking nod, which her Professor returned with a short smile and a twinkle in her eyes that put Dumbledore to shame. The next moment, her twinkling was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a stern expression as she continued:

"The past few years have taken a toll on this school, its teachers as well as its students. The war has divided us; destroying families, friendships, trust and hope. It is our responsibility to pick up the pieces those years of conflict have left us with, to restore the trust and the hopefulness of the students of this school. Many have lost relatives or dear friends and will need the support of their fellow classmates and trusting adults to cope with their losses. The staff and especially the Head Boy and Girl must provide guidance and comfort to those who seek you out, but also to those who are struggling without asking for help."

The familiar faces of Fred, Tonks and Remus flashed before Hermione's eyes and she felt a stabbing pain at the renewed knowledge that she would see none of them again. Balling her fists at her side, she felt her nails piercing the skin painfully as she tried to distract herself from more images flooding her mind. _How am I supposed to help? I can barely keep myself together; how could I comfort anyone going through the same thing?_

Interrupting her inner monologue, Minerva proceeded: "You are by nature closer to the students than any of the staff members, making you more likely to be approached by your classmates and you might spot issues earlier than we may. We will therefore count on you take this responsibility very seriously.

You may choose to keep conversations and other assistance to the students between you and the respective child if such confidentiality is requested or deemed necessary, though you are encouraged to discuss either specific or broad problems with me or any other teacher. For this reason both you as well as the Head Boy are given the privilege to enter and use the staff room at any time.

In addition, you are required to attend certain staff meetings to discuss these issues further and to actively influence the way we handle and even teach things in the future. This is not only a responsibility; it is also a chance to shape the subjects and workings of Hogwarts and I feel it is time to hear the input the students, represented by you, can contribute", the Headmistress stated firmly.

While Hermione felt extremely overwhelmed by the tasks loaded on her shoulders, she could not help but acknowledge the spark of excitement the opportunity to change the customs of the century-old school in such a way had caused. It was about time the students had some say in the necessary changes their situation required instead of being thrown into the middle of things they had neither fashioned nor controlled.

"One last thing I would like to discuss with you concerns a most urgent matter we cannot ignore any longer. The students of Slytherin House will need our guidance in the years to come and it is critical that you, as their Head Girl, will refrain from quick judgements and instead see them for who they are: young members of our school who have faced prejudice, hardship and loss as many other students have.

Not all of them have sided with Voldemort, though most of them will be accused of having done so. Even those who did might not always have had a choice in the matter; their upbringing and families have bestowed upon them a mind set and obligation to follow the paths of their relatives.

Do not think I am making excuses for crimes some of them have committed; there certainly were Slytherins sharing Voldemort's hatred and enjoying the gruesome actions they performed, but so did members of the other houses that joined Voldemort's cause. With many of his followers either dead or imprisoned, it is Slytherin House, however, that will be most affected. The students have lost all sense of direction; the path most of them had set out for them is shattered now, their future uncertain.

The beliefs they thought to be true all those years are looked down upon as we rebuild our society, but they will be hard to overcome, especially with the grief and bitterness many of them harbour. Ever since the first rise of Voldemort, Slytherins have been eyed suspiciously and, especially in recent years, I have to admit, we have put the needs of the other Houses before theirs."

Hermione listened intently to her former Head of House, slightly surprised Minerva had brought up this topic. Though the more she thought about the issue at hand, the more sense it made to her. She thought back to Harry pleading with the Sorting Hat to place him in Gryffindor instead of the House of the Snake, even though he had barely heard of them. Or to the few things she had found out about the conflicts of the Marauders and the way they always seemed to privilege the golden boys of Gryffindor.

"I do not ask you to blatantly favour Slytherin students; you should merely treat them with the equal respect you show the other Houses. Give them guidance where you can and try to shield them from the malevolence the other students will no doubt bestow upon them. Believe me; they will not make it easy for you. All I ask is that you try your best and ask for help, if you are in need of it. The Head of Slytherin as well as I will always be available should you need assistance or would like to discuss a pressing issue. Can I trust you with this, Hermione?"

"Yes, Minerva. I will try my best", she answered sincerely, for which she was rewarded with one of McGonagall's rare genuine smiles.

"I am glad to hear it, Hermione. I will let you finish your tea and then you may settle into your quarters properly."

After some light conversation, they both emptied their cups and Hermione found herself on the way up to Gryffindor Tower, where she planned to unpack her things before heading to the staff meeting Minerva had invited her to. While she walked up the familiar stairs, her mind was working furiously, trying to come to terms with her new unexpected duties she would need to work into the already full schedule of her NEWT year. After all, this was certainly not what she had expected when she received the letter containing her Head Girl badge.

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 **Let me know, if you liked it and help me get better :)  
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